Boys of Summer
by asteroidbuckle
Summary: Scenes from various summers in the boys' lives and how these summers shaped their relationship. Eventual Drake/Josh.
1. Foam Finger

**Title:** Boys of Summer  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** K to T (G to R)  
**Warnings:** a reinterpretation of canon, maybe?  
**Pairings:** none  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.

**Author's Note: **It's been a while since I've seen the episode, "Foam Finger," so if some of the canon is a little off, I apologize. **Also, this will be more explicitly Drake/Josh in later chapters.**

* * *

**Foam Finger**

**_Drake_**

Drake pokes gingerly at the skin around his left eye as he looks at himself in the mirror, sucking air sharply between his teeth when the tip of his right index finger presses a little too hard against the darkening bruise.

Stupid kid with his stupid sucker punch.

And Drake _did not_ thump him, thank you very much.

He pokes at his eye a couple more times before finally deciding that a black eye isn't the worst thing that could've happened. It kinda makes him look tough. Which is a good thing, since being short totally sucks and he can use all the help he can get in keeping Bobby Molina off his back. He's lost track of exactly how much of his allowance he's already lost to that kid.

"Drake! Dinner!" his mom calls from downstairs and Drake rolls his eyes, then winces. He isn't really hungry; all he really wants to do is go to his room and turn on the TV and craft his "How I Got a Black Eye" story. 'Cause telling everyone he got in a fight over a foam finger at a Padres games is just not good enough. No way. It has to be something better than that, something that makes him look cooler. Something that will make Bobby Molina think twice next time before grabbing the waistband of Drake's underwear and giving it a good yank.

"Now, Drake!" his mom calls in her annoyed voice.

Sighing, Drake pulls open the bathroom door and trudges downstairs, keeping his head ducked so his mom won't see just how dark his eye is getting. He slides into his regular chair at the dinner table and swings his feet between the chair legs, studying his placemat like it has a secret message written on it.

A plate of spaghetti is set in front of him and he sees his mom sit down in her chair at the end of the table. He stares at his food so intently he could swear he sees it actually move, then picks up his fork and twirls a few noodles half-heartedly around the tines.

"How's your eye?" his mom asks.

"Fine," he mumbles and puts the fork in his mouth, chewing slowly.

"Let me see," she says.

Drake doesn't raise his head, just prods his spaghetti thoroughly with his fork like he's looking for a prize.

"Drake."

Reluctantly, he looks up, blinking at his mom and the startled look in her eyes. She reaches out and grabs his chin in her fingers, turning his head left and right, her lips pressed tightly together. Drake wants to run away but he can't.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asks, but she doesn't sound mad and is that a little bit of a smile?

"Let me stay home tomorrow?" he asks hopefully. His mom is sending him to the YMCA for the summer since she has to work and tomorrow is Monday, which means basketball day. Which means two things: getting picked last 'cause nobody wants the short kid and possibly getting stuffed into the garbage can again by Bobby in front of all the other kids.

His mom smiles at him and brushes her thumb across his cheek before dropping her hand. "You know I can't do that, Drake," she says. "I have to work and you can't stay home by yourself."

"Why not?" Drake asks. "I'll stay in my room all day, I promise. And I know how to dial 9-1-1. Besides, Mrs. Campbell is right next door."

"Mrs. Campbell is in a wheelchair," his mom says, shaking her head. "And you're only eight years old."

Drake smirks and slumps into his chair, poking around in his spaghetti again. "Fine," he says.

It seems like forever before dinner is over and he's done with all his chores. He had to clear the table, load the dishwasher, and take the garbage out before he could go back upstairs, and then he has to gather up all his dirty clothes and carry them back downstairs to the laundry room where his mom is waiting.

"Am I done being punished now?" he asks, feeling grumpy. His eye is starting to hurt and he just wants to put on his pajamas and watch TV in his room.

Smiling down at him, his mom says, "Those were just your regular chores, Drake. Not your punishment."

Uh-oh. That does _not_ sound good. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"I mean," she says, sorting his dirty clothes into two piles, "I'm very disappointed in the way you acted today and–"

"He started it!" Drake protests.

"–I want you to write a letter to that boy apologizing for fighting with him."

"That's not fair! He hit me first," Drake says, pointing to his face. "In case you haven't noticed."

His mom just looks at him. "It doesn't matter who hit who first," she says. "You need to learn to apologize for your actions, Drake. I spoke with the boy's father and got his address. So when you're finished with your letter, we'll mail it to him."

"But–"

"No buts, Drake."

Normally that would make him laugh, but now he just looks up into his mom's face and sighs. "Fine," he grumbles, then turns on his heel and stomps back upstairs.

One hour and about fifty balled up pieces of paper later, Drake is finished.

_"Dear Josh, Im sory I got in a fite with you at the baseball game. You gave me a black eye but its OK. The fome finger looks cool in my room. I wish you had one. Yours truly, Drake Parker."_

His mom gives him a funny look when he shows it to her, but she folds it up and puts it inside the envelope anyway.

* * *

**_Josh_**

Josh grins as he flexes his right fist over and over. His hand hurts a little, but in a good way, and he can't wait to show Craig and Eric his swollen knuckles tomorrow at science camp. Of course, he's gonna leave out the part about the foam finger; that just doesn't sound tough enough. He's also gonna make the kid older and much, much bigger than he really is. He won't really be _lying_, just…storytelling.

Craig and Eric are gonna be so jealous.

There's a knock on his door and Josh presses his palm flat against his bed, hiding it from view beneath his leg. "Come in," he says.

The door opens and his dad pokes his head around it. "Hey, big guy," he says, smiling. "Can I talk to you?"

"Okay," Josh says, making sure he isn't smiling anymore. His dad's wearing his "this is serious" look and Josh knows he isn't supposed to feel so happy about punching another boy.

His dad sits down on the edge of his bed and clears his throat. "I want to talk to you about what happened today, son."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Josh says, suddenly feeling guilty. The way his dad is looking at him makes him feel bad.

"Your mother and I have tried to teach you that fighting is not the answer," his dad says.

Dang it. Now he feels like he's going to cry. He feels like that whenever he thinks about his mom. It hasn't even been a year since she died and sometimes he misses her so much it hurts. "I know," Josh mutters, looking down at his dark blue bed spread as he blinks away tears.

He hears his dad sigh, then feels his dad's big warm hand on the back of his neck. "I'm not mad, son," his dad says, answering Josh's unasked question. "I'm just worried about you."

Josh looks up at him. He pulls his hand out from its hiding place and rubs it. "I'm okay, Dad," he says, trying to sound reassuring. "It hardly hurts at all."

His dad smiles a little and takes his hand, brushing his thumb lightly over Josh's knuckles. He looks away for a moment, then back at Josh, and Josh can see that his dad is sad.

"Your mom was so smart, Josh," his dad says and Josh feels his throat get tight. "She always knew the right thing to do. The right thing to say in moments like these." He sighs and holds Josh's gaze without blinking. "I really miss her." His voice is so soft, Josh has to concentrate on listening.

"Me, too, Dad."

His dad nods, then smiles a little. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier."

Josh shrugs and pulls his hand from his dad's grasp. "It's okay," he says. "I know I'm not supposed to get in fights." A smile breaks out across his face before he can stop it. "But I popped him pretty good." He punches his left palm with his right fist, then winces a little.

His dad's smile widens and Josh can see him struggling to maintain his stern face. "His mother told me you gave him a black eye," his dad says.

"Really?" Josh asks, grinning, then clears his throat and forces his smile into submission. "I-I mean, wow. I hope he's okay."

His dad shakes his head. "I told his mother you would write a letter of apology to him."

"What? Why? He started it." Josh feels his face getting red.

"Josh."

"He thumped me in the back of the head! _He_ should apologize to _me. And_ give me the foam finger."

"Joshua."

Uh-oh. The use of his full name is never a good sign. He sighs. "Fine."

Josh thinks about what he'll say for a long time. His first draft says, _"Dear Drake, I really liked punching you and I hope the foam finger makes you break out in hives." _

But he knows his dad will be reading it, so he finally settles on, _"Dear Drake, I'm sorry I hit you. I hope your eye gets better soon. Have fun with the foam finger. Sincerely, Josh Nichols."_

When he shows it to his dad, he smiles and says, "I'm proud of you, son."

That makes Josh feel good, but he still wishes he could send the other one.

* * *

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you._


	2. First Date

**Title:** Boys of Summer  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** K to T (G to R)  
**Warnings:** a reinterpretation of canon, maybe?  
**Pairings:** none  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.

**Author's Note: **Drake & Josh as young 'uns...I love it.

* * *

**First Date**

**_Drake_**

"Don't forget to get your sister from Jenny's house at 9:30," his mom says to him as she walks into the living room. "I don't want her walking home by herself after dark."

"Hmph," Drake says from his hole deep inside the couch cushions. His feet are propped on the arm and he's hugging one of the throw pillows to his stomach, his head turned to the side as he watches _Celebrities on a Bus._

A second later, his mom is standing in front of the couch, blocking the TV, her shadow thrown across him. "Drake," she says, "are you listening to me?"

"Yes," he says, maneuvering his head to try to look around her legs.

"What did I say?"

"Something about Megan and darkness," he mutters. He wishes his mom would shut up; the show is getting good. The runner-up from _Canadian Idol_ just got sent to the back of the bus by Mary-Kate Olsen, the winner of last season's _Celebrities on a Boat_. That girl knows how to play dirty, he thinks.

His mom bends down, snatches the remote control from the coffee table, and flips the television off.

"Hey!" Drake says, looking up at her. "I was watching that."

She's looking down at him, her eyes wide. "All I ask from you is a little courtesy, Drake. For you to listen to me when I talk to you. Is that so difficult?" Her voice is tight and Drake suddenly realizes what's wrong with her – she's nervous.

"Mom," he says, sitting up, trying not to smile. "He's gonna love you." He puts his hand on her arm. "I promise."

She meets his gaze, then collapses onto the coffee table, perching on the edge. "You'd think I'd never been on a date before," she says, laughing nervously.

"Well, it _has_ been a while," Drake says, smiling.

His mom smirks. "Not _that_ long," she says.

"Seven weeks ago today," he says.

"You've been keeping track?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"It's not that often you let me stay home by myself, you know," he says. "So I tend to remember it."

His mom smiles, then her face changes. "About that," she says.

Drake doesn't like the sound of that. "You didn't call a babysitter, did you?" he asks, horrified. "Mom, I'm fourteen. I don't–"

"No, Drake," she says. "No babysitter."

But for some reason, that doesn't sound reassuring. "Then what?"

"He has a son your age. Josh. He goes to your school, actually." She smiles a little. "I told you about him."

"So?" Drake asks warily.

"He's coming over. You guys can hang out together." She gives him a cheerful look.

"What? No," he says, standing up, waving his hands in front of him. "No, no, no."

"Drake–"

"Mom, I have plans." He starts ticking things off his fingers. "Just me, the TV, a pile of junk food, and most importantly, no Megan."

His mom stands up. "You can still do all that, Drake. I'm sure Josh likes to watch TV and eat junk food, too. Maybe you guys can order a pizza. That would be fun, huh?"

"No, Mom. Not fun. Not fun at all. Call his dad and tell him his kid can't come over. Tell him I've got malaria or something. That I'm contagious." He's shaking his head vehemently.

She smiles. "I can't do that, honey. I've already told Walter it was okay." She shrugs. "Besides, they'll be here any minute."

"Quick. I'll turn off all the lights and lock all the doors and you can tell them I'm not home. That I ran away or something." He reaches for the lamp and switches it off.

"Drake," his mom says. "Just stop. It won't be that bad. His dad says he's really fun and I know you'll get along just fine."

"How fun can he be?" Drake asks her. "His dad's a weather man."

His mom smirks, then jumps when the doorbell rings. "They're here," she says, looking from the door back to Drake, her nervousness back with a vengeance. "How do I look?" she asks him hopefully, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress.

Drake smiles at her. "You look great," he tells her. "If he doesn't get down on his knees and beg you to marry him the second you open the door, he's a fool."

His mom grins and rolls her eyes and Drake feels a rush of warmth in his chest. She would never admit it, but he knows how lonely she is and he really wants her to be happy. Even if that means with the goofy weather man from Channel 6.

Drake walks with her to the door and hears her take in a deep breath. When she opens it, he's suddenly face-to-face with a chubby kid wearing a lopsided grin and a bright orange t-shirt who can't seem to stand still.

"This is my son, Josh," he hears the man say and the kid sticks his hand out.

Drake just looks at Josh's hand for a moment, then feels his mom gently nudge him on the shoulder. Reluctantly, he takes the kid's hand and shakes it. Josh's palm feels a little soft and damp, and Drake fights the urge to pull his hand away. "I'm Drake," he says, forcing a smile.

"We're gonna have so much fun!" Josh tells him, still grinning. "I brought tons of stuff!" He motions to the backpack on his shoulder.

"Great," Drake says. _Please help me._

* * *

**_Josh_**

"Do you think he'll like me?" Josh asks anxiously, watching his dad pick through his closet for a shirt.

Snagging a hanger from the rack, his dad turns around. "Of course he will, son," he says, smiling. "What's not to like?" He holds the shirt against his chest and raises his eyebrows.

Josh wrinkles his nose and shakes his head as he says, "You _have_ to say that, Dad. You're my father."

His dad turns back to the closet, re-hanging the shirt and searching for another one. "Maybe," he says. "But you're a great kid, Josh. Everyone can see that. He will, too."

Josh feels himself blush as he shakes his head at another one of his dad's shirt selections. "But he's one of the most popular kids in school," he says. "I don't think he even knows I exist."

"Well, then," his dad says, holding up yet another ugly shirt, "now's your chance to make him notice you. His mom says he's really a nice kid once you get to know him."

Josh shakes his head again at his dad's shirt and stands up from his perch on the edge of the bed, walking over to the closet. "If you and his mom get married, I guess he'll _have_ to like me, won't he?"

His dad laughs. "Hold on a second, son. How 'bout we get through dinner first before making wedding plans?"

"Come on, Dad," Josh says, grinning as he riffles through the closet. "I've got a good feeling about this."

"You do, huh?" Josh can hear the amusement in his dad's voice.

"Yeah," Josh says. He turns from the closet with a dark blue shirt in his hands and holds it up to his dad's chest. "Besides, when she sees you in this shirt, she's gonna beg you to propose."

His dad looks down and holds his arms out, balancing the sleeves on top of them. Then he nods. "Son," he says, looking up at Josh and winking. "You may be right."

Josh is so nervous in the car on the way over, he can't sit still. He keeps checking and rechecking his backpack, making sure he has everything. In his excitement, he stuffed the bag to the brim with stuff he thought Drake would like – his iBot, his Pentendo GS, a couple DVDs, some CDs, and a few magic trick supplies.

"Josh, relax," his dad says beside him. "Everything's going to be fine."

Josh makes a conscious effort to sit still, but when his dad pulls into the driveway, he starts fidgeting again. He follows his dad up the front walk and stands on shaky knees beside him on the porch. He hears his dad inhale deeply and let it out slowly, then sees him reach out and press the doorbell.

He studies the pattern in the glass as he waits for the door to open and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. It feels like the seconds crawl by until he finally sees a silhouette behind the glass. He involuntarily holds his breath as the door opens.

Standing right in front of him is a boy about his height, maybe a little shorter, wearing a look of apprehension on his face. Josh releases his breath in a rush and grins, almost laughing with relief. Drake, close up, is nothing like he expected. In Josh's mind, Drake was six feet tall and nearly glowed in the dark. But the kid in front of him is just a regular kid. Like him.

"…my son, Josh," he hears his dad say next to him, and feels his dad's warm hand on his shoulder.

Josh is grinning, knows he's grinning too wide but can't help it, and shoves his fidgety hand out.

Drake looks at his hand, then finally takes it when his mother nudges him in the shoulder. Josh squeezes his hand, probably a little too hard, and hopes his palm isn't too sweaty.

* * *

**_Drake_**

"Nice house," Josh says after their parents leave and they're standing alone in the foyer.

"Thanks," Drake says, looking around, trying not to sound too bored. He walks into the living room so Josh can't see his face, can't see the way his eyes roll of their own accord. If they have to spend the next few hours together, he should at least make an effort to get along with him.

Josh follows him into the living room and Drake tells him he can set his stuff on the dining room table. By the sound of the bag hitting the table, there must be at least 30 pounds of nerd gear hiding inside.

"So, what do you wanna do first?" Josh asks him.

Drake sits heavily on the couch and looks up at him. He's still fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and tugging nervously on the tails of his blue plaid overshirt. "I thought we could just watch TV," Drake says to him, leaning over to pick up the remote control.

"Sure!" Josh says. "I like TV."

Drake ducks his head as his eyes roll again and turns the TV on. The kid's still standing, like he's waiting for something.

"You can, uh, sit down, you know," Drake says. "I won't bite."

Josh laughs a little too loudly at that as he plops down on the couch next to Drake. Right next to Drake. As in his knee is bouncing against Drake's as he fidgets.

Drake inches over, pressing against the arm of the couch, and tries to ignore it, focusing instead on the TV. _Celebrities on a Bus _is almost over and the _Canadian Idol_ guy has managed to move back up to the middle of the bus.

"What show is this?" Josh asks.

"_Celebrities on a Bus._"

"Never heard of it."

Drake looks over at him. "You're kidding."

"Nope," he says. "Why? Is it popular or something?"

Drake just looks at him for a second. "It's only, like, the best show on television."

Josh looks at the TV, then back at Drake. "Really? What's so great about it?" he asks seriously.

Drake shakes his head. He can't believe what he's hearing. "It's celebrities," he says. "On a bus."

The kid shrugs. "So what? I've ridden the bus. It's not that great."

"Never mind," Drake mutters, turning back to the television. "It's almost over anyway."

They watch in silence until the end, then Drake asks him, "What kind of stuff do you like to watch, anyway?"

Josh smiles. "_Oprah_ is my favorite show, but that comes on at four o'clock."

"_Oprah._" Oh. My. God.

Nodding, Josh says, "I also like The Fruit and Vegetable Channel. Last week they did this series on root vegetables. The show on rutabagas was really interesting."

Drake just stares at him, incredulous. "There's a fruit and vegetable channel?"

"Yeah," Josh says. "Channel 164." He takes the remote from Drake's hand and changes the channel to 164. On the screen, some old man is talking about his hydroponic lettuce farm and Drake looks over to see Josh watching intently.

Please kill me, he thinks.

* * *

**_Josh_**

Josh follows Drake into the kitchen and leans against the island as Drake ducks his head inside the refrigerator. He emerges a few seconds later with two two-liter bottles in his hands.

"Root beer or Dr. Fizz?" Drake asks him, gesturing with the appropriate bottle as he names them.

"Root beer," Josh says and watches as Drake pours the soda into his glass and then pours himself a glass of Dr. Fizz.

"Actually," Josh says, reaching for his glass, "I like to mix them."

Drake looks at him, his eyebrows crawling towards his hairline. "No way."

Josh feels a blush creeping along his neck. "I know," he says. "Dumb, huh?"

"No," Drake says, smiling a little. "I do that, too."

Josh grins. "Really?"

"Yeah," Drake says. "My mom thinks it's gross, but I like it."

"It's like the best of both worlds," Josh says.

Drake laughs. "Exactly."

They looks at each other for a long moment as an awkward silence settles in. "So, um…" Drake says, tipping his glass at Josh's. "You want to?"

"Yeah!" Josh says, picking up his glass.

Once their drinks are thoroughly mixed, Drake hands a bag of cheese puffs to Josh and grabs a bag of pretzels and heads back out to the living room, Josh following closely behind. Settling on the couch with their snacks, Drake flips through the channels until they both agree on an episode of _FBI's Most Wanted_.

The second segment is about a bank robber nicknamed "The Brogue Bandit" because he speaks with an Irish accent.

"That guy looks kinda like Mr. Potter," Josh says, laughing, when they show a close-up of a security camera shot.

"The math teacher?" Drake asks, squinting at the TV for a better look. "Nah."

"Same nose, same hair color," Josh says, pointing.

"You're right," Drake says, grinning. "And he did just buy that new Camaro."

"On a teacher's salary?" Josh asks, raising one eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Sounds fishy to me."

Drake laughs. "Whaddya know? Mr. Potter's a bank robber."

"Let's not turn him in until _after_ final exams next week, though," Josh says. "'Cause I'm totally getting an A."

Drake scoffs. "Well, I'm not, so I think we should turn him in now. Maybe the principal would take pity on us and give us all an A."

Josh laughs. "There's only one problem," he says. "All the banks are robbed during the day when Mr. Potter's at school."

"Too bad," Drake says. "I guess it's just as well, though. My mom would probably have a heart attack if I brought home an A." He grins.

"I could tutor you if you want," Josh says, then immediately wishes he hadn't. He feels the blush creeping up his neck again.

"I think it's a little late for that," Drake says. "School's over next week. Thank God." He grins. "Besides, I'm passing and that's good enough for me."

"A good education is vital to a successful life," Josh says, then feels stupid for saying it, especially since Drake's looking at him like that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard.

"Unless you're a rockstar," Drake says, a lopsided grin curving his lips. "Then all you need is talent and really cool hair."

Josh laughs. "And a pretty face." Oh, jeez. Did he just say that?

But Drake doesn't seem to notice Josh's embarrassment. "Luckily," he says, sucking in his cheeks like an anorexic supermodel, "I have all three." Then he bats his eyelashes at him.

Josh laughs then. "Modesty," he says. "I like that in my friends." It's much too soon to tell, of course, if they're going to be friends. But he can always hope.

* * *

_Please review. Thanks!_


	3. Stepbrothers

**Title:** Boys of Summer  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** K to T (G to R)  
**Warnings:** a reinterpretation of canon, maybe?  
**Pairings:** none  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.

**Author's Note**: Summer officially ends in late September, so I'm still safe canon-wise here, I think. 'Cause in the pilot, the boys are in school when Audrey and Walter get married and since school starts in August, it can still technically be summer when the wedding occurs. You with me? :o)

* * *

**Stepbrothers**

**_Josh_**

His grin starts peeking through the second Audrey steps up next to his dad and by the time the minister says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife," he feels like his face is going to split open. He can't stop squirming in his seat.

When his dad kisses Audrey and everyone starts clapping, Josh shoots out of his seat and grabs Drake's wrist, yanking him up, too. Ignoring the look of horror on Drake's face, he wraps his arms around his new stepbrother and hugs him, lifting him off the floor.

"Dude, put me down," Drake says, pushing against Josh's shoulders. "People are watching."

Josh sets him back on his feet, but his grin doesn't diminish. "We're officially brothers now," he says to Drake. "Isn't that great?"

"Yeah," Drake says, smoothing the front of his suit. "Great."

Josh is undeterred by Drake's apparent indifference because he can cite at least a dozen instances where he and Drake had spent the evening playing video games or watching TV or listening to music. And in all those times, Drake was just a kid having fun, not caring about anything else. But Josh goes to the same school and knows Drake's reputation and understands that the face Drake shows to others isn't the same one Josh sees when it's just the two of them.

"Where's Megan?" he asks, looking around. "I wanna hug her, too."

Drake looks at him. "Josh," he says, laying a hand on Josh's shoulder. "You're my brother now. And as such, I feel I must warn you. Megan? Is evil."

Josh laughs. "Oh, come on. I knows she's pulled a couple pranks on me, but I'd hardly call that evil. She's just being a kid."

"She's been easy on you up to now," Drake says gravely. "But now that you're family, watch out."

Josh looks at him, then shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "You're pulling my leg."

Drake squeezes his shoulder, then lets his hand drop. "Fine. Don't believe me. But when you wake up one morning on the roof, don't come crying to me."

Josh narrows his eyes. "The roof? How–"

"Shhh. Here she comes," Drake says, pasting on a smile and turning towards the patio. Josh follows his gaze. Megan's standing in the doorway of the sliding glass doors, the part of the house visible behind her bustling with wedding guests.

"Your grandmother is looking for you, _Joshie_," she says, smirking at the nickname.

"Okay," Josh says and walks towards the house. He's about to walk through the door when he feels her small hand on his wrist. He looks down at her.

"What? No hug for your new sister?" she asks, smiling.

Josh grins, then shoots a look at Drake that says, _And you said she was evil._ Drake just shakes his head. "Of course you can have a hug," Josh says, looking back at her. "I've got plenty." He holds his arms open and she hugs him, then tilts her head back to look into his face.

"Welcome to the family," she says, and though her voice is sweet, there's an unsettling gleam in her dark eyes. Then she disappears into the house.

Drake comes up to him and slaps him on the back. "Don't say I didn't warn you, man," he says, then follows Megan inside.

* * *

**_Drake_**

Drake swipes the nearly full bottle off the counter and ducks out of the kitchen, crossing the foyer quickly and taking the steps two at a time. When he pushes his bedroom door open and finds it blissfully empty, he smiles, and leans heavily against the door when he closes it.

"Peace at last," he says to himself and heaves a satisfied sigh.

Stepping down into the room, he kicks off his shoes and works his jacket off, transferring the bottle to his other hand as he shakes his arm from the sleeve. He tosses the jacket in the vicinity of the loft and hops over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions and propping his feet on the coffee table.

Picking the remote control up off the cushion next to him, he turns on the TV, then tilts the bottle to his lips and takes a drink. Grimacing, he looks at the label. It says champagne, but it's flat. And it's warm. But beggars can't be choosers, he decides, and takes another sip. Four sips later and it doesn't taste so bad. He also feels the blood infuse his cheeks and tugs off his already-loose tie and tosses it to the floor.

He's tilting the bottle to his lips again when there's a soft knock on the door followed by the sound of his name being called.

Josh.

Drake closes his eyes and hopes that if he doesn't answer, Josh will go away. But then he realizes this is Josh, the most persistent person he's ever met, and he can probably hear the TV anyway.

"Come in," Drake says, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. They've been brothers for less than four hours and already he's on Drake's nerves. And to think now they're going to be living in the same house.

Josh opens the door, his shoes scuffing across the threshold, and Drake doesn't look back, just waits for him to bound across the room like a puppy and jump onto the couch with his usual enthusiasm.

But nothing happens. Drake turns his head to look at Josh, who's just standing in the doorway looking back at him, his hand on the doorknob. He's shifting his weight from foot to foot in silence.

"Either come in or leave," Drake says. "But close the door."

Josh blinks at him, then throws a quick glance over his shoulder before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Drake turns back to the TV, but he can hear Josh scuff along the top of the stairs for a few more seconds before descending.

"Lame party, huh?" Josh asks from the foot of the stairs.

Drake thinks to himself that Josh is as far from a leading expert on parties as you could get, but he says, "Actually, I'm hiding from your cousin. She keeps trying to kiss me."

Josh laughs. "Which one?"

"Blue dress, brown hair. Carla? Kayla? Something like that." Drake takes another drink from the bottle, the sour-sweet liquid warm on his tongue.

"Cara," Josh says. "What, you don't think she's pretty?"

Drake turns his head to look at him. "She's twelve."

"She'll be thirteen in two weeks," Josh says, grinning.

"Call me when she's sixteen," Drake says, "and _not_ your cousin."

"She's your cousin now, too," Josh says.

"Even better." Drake turns back to the TV and presses the channel up button. He flips through six channels before he can no longer take the feeling of Josh's eyes on him. "What?" he asks, looking back at Josh.

"Are you drinking?" Josh asks him, his eyes wide.

Drake smiles a little. "What, this?" he asks, lifting the bottle from where it's resting on his thigh. "This is just grape juice."

Josh smirks. "The label says 'Champagne'," he says.

Drake's eyes flick to the label, then back to Josh. "You've got the eyesight of a bat, you know that?" He takes another drink as he turns back to the TV.

Josh finally moves from his spot at the foot of the stairs and plops down on the couch next to Drake. "I don't think you should be drinking that," he says.

"Yeah?" Drake says. "Well, there are a lot of things I probably shouldn't do." He turns his head, gives Josh a small smile, then turns back to the TV.

Josh settles in beside him and they watch TV in silence for a few moments. "Eagle," Josh says out of nowhere.

Drake looks over at him. "Huh?"

"You said I have the eyesight of a bat," Josh says. "But you should've said 'eagle'. Bats have bad eyesight."

Drake raises one eyebrow at him and shakes his head. "Dude," he says, handing Josh the bottle. "I think you need this more than I do. You think way too much."

Josh takes the bottle, but doesn't take a drink. He looks at it, then back at Drake. "I've never had champagne," he says.

"Surprise, surprise," Drake says, smiling.

Josh just looks at him.

"Come on," Drake says. "Live a little. You need to expand your horizons."

"I'm starting to realize that," Josh says softly and holds Drake's gaze for a long moment before finally bringing the bottle to his lips. Drake watches as he tilts it back and takes a tiny sip, and laughs at the face Josh makes after he swallows.

He takes the bottle when Josh offers it to him and wipes the mouth of it with his sleeve. "It's an acquired taste," Drake says, taking another sip. "Go on, take another sip." He holds out the bottle.

Josh looks at it, then at Drake's face, and a slow smile spreads across his lips. "An acquired taste, huh?" he says, taking the bottle, his fingers brushing lightly against Drake's. Then he tilts the bottle to his lips without even wiping it off.

* * *

**_Josh_**

He's sweating a little and he feels a little dizzy, but it's not really a bad feeling and he leans back against the back of the couch and watches the room float by.

"Hey, Josh," he hears beside him.

He turns his head along the back of the couch and sees Drake looking back at him. Drake's eyes are a little glassy and he blinks slowly at Josh. "Yeah?" Josh asks.

"I'm a little dizzy," Drake says, then grins as he turns his eyes back to the ceiling. "I kinda like it."

Josh smiles, too, and studies Drake's profile. "Me, too." Drake's cheeks are flushed, the skin pink beneath his freckles, and Josh balls his hands into fists to keep from touching him.

The door bursts open and Josh sits up quickly to face the intruder, blinking against the accelerated spin of the room. "There you are," Megan says and Josh hears Drake groan under his breath behind him. "Mom and Walter are looking for you."

"What for?" Drake asks, and Josh feels the cushion shift beneath him, feels something solid beneath his butt. Then it dawns on him – Drake is hiding the empty champagne bottle.

"They're leaving for their honeymoon and they want to say goodbye," she says and Josh can see her narrow her eyes, appraising them. "What have you guys been doing up here, anyway?"

"Nothing," Drake says and Josh can feel the warmth disappear behind him as Drake stands.

She looks from Drake to Josh and back again. "Right," she says. "And you're not a boob."

"Well, we shouldn't keep Mom and Walter waiting," Drake says and walks over to her, ushering her quickly out the door.

Josh stares after them, watching them disappear into the hall, but stays seated. He's not sure he can stand without falling over and his head is still spinning.

"Dude!" Drake hisses from the doorway a few seconds later.

Josh blinks and looks up at him.

"Come on," Drake says, gripping the doorframe.

"I'm not sure I can," Josh says, shaking his head. The motion makes him feel suddenly nauseous and he covers his mouth with his hand. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Drake rolls his eyes and runs down the steps, grabbing Josh by the wrist and dragging him up. "You can throw up _after_ they leave," he says, pulling Josh towards the door.

"What about…" Josh begins, stopping to concentrate on climbing the steps. Once they're at the top, he continues. "…the bottle?"

"Leave it," Drake whispers. "We'll ditch it later." He stops and grips Josh's shoulders tightly to steady him. "You okay?"

Josh meets Drake's eyes. They're clear and focused and he thinks, _here's another thing to admire him for_. Like he already doesn't have a bad enough case of hero-worship as it is. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Drake smiles. "Good," he says. "'Cause this is just the beginning."

Josh can't help but smile back.

* * *

**_Drake_**

"Drake."

He ignores the sound, thinks he's dreaming, and readjusts his blankets, settling back into his pillow with a sigh.

"Drake, you awake?"

Drake opens his eyes and suppresses a groan. "I guess so," he says, rolling over.

Josh is staring back at him through the darkness, gripping the sides of the ladder in his fists. As his eyes adjust, Drake can see how wide Josh's eyes are. "I'm sorry to wake you," Josh says, swallowing hard.

Drake props himself up on his right elbow and rubs his eyes. "What's the matter?" Then he sits up quickly and pushes back against the wall by the window. "Wait, you're not gonna puke, are you?"

Josh smiles a little and shakes his head. "No, no. Nothing like that," he says. He motions vaguely to the couch, where his covers are lying in a twisted heap on the cushions. "I couldn't sleep."

"So I guess that means I can't either, right?" The question comes out harsher than he intended and he feels instantly guilty when he sees Josh's face fall a little. "Sorry."

Josh just shrugs, then looks away. "I…" he says, then turns his eyes back to Drake. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes, you snore," Drake says, smiling.

Josh smiles a little. "I know," he says. "Adenoids." He shrugs.

Drake just shakes his head, not bothering to ask what Josh is talking about. He looks at Josh, who's fidgeting a little, digging his thumbnails into the ends of the ladder. "Just ask me already so I can get back to sleep. Tiffany was just about to kiss me," he says, grinning.

Josh just nods and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Is it alright if…" he begins, looking up to meet Drake's eyes. "…if I call your mom, 'Mom'?"

Drake doesn't know what to say for a long moment and feels his smile dissolve from his face. "Um…"

"It's okay if you don't want me to," Josh says quickly, nearly stumbling over his words. "I mean she's _your_ mom, not mine. But it's just…she's great…and I…I haven't…" He stops and drops his head, his chin nearly touching his chest. "Never mind," he says after a moment. "Forget I said anything." Then he climbs down and shuffles back to the couch.

Drake watches him lay back down on the couch and fuss with his covers, watches him toss and turn a couple times before he finally settles on his right side, facing the television.

"It's okay with me," Drake finally says.

Josh pushes himself up on one elbow and looks at Drake over the back of the couch, his grin bright even in the dim light.

* * *

_Please review. Thank you._


	4. Guitar Boy & Pool Shark

**Title:** Boys of Summer  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** K to T (G to R)  
**Warnings:** a teensy bit of angst, bad words  
**Pairings:** none  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.  
**Author's Note**: It's kind of funny that this chapter comes after the LJ community discussion about the boys' respective missing parents. I actually had most of this written before that discussion took place, so it was sort of timely (to me).

* * *

**Guitar Boy & Pool Shark**

**_Josh_**

The sound of Megan's bedroom door slamming precedes Drake's arrival in their room by about fifteen seconds.

"Hey," Drake says absently as he closes the door behind him and steps down into the room.

"Hey," Josh says, looking up from his laptop. "How'd it go?"

Drake is peeling the soft case off his acoustic guitar and doesn't turn to look at Josh when he answers. "Dad's got a new girlfriend," he says and climbs up onto his bed.

Josh watches him settle onto the ledge next to his mattress and cross his legs Indian-style. The way Drake hasn't looked at him once since walking in is a little unsettling. "Yeah?" he ventures, studying Drake's reaction. "What's her name?"

It takes a moment for Drake to respond and Josh swears he sees Drake's jaw tighten. "Stacie," Drake says, finally looking up at Josh. "With an 'i-e'." He rolls his eyes dramatically before looking back down again. He starts tuning his guitar.

"What's she like?"

"Young," Drake answers, plucking the A string with his right thumb and making an adjustment on the tuning peg.

"Oh," Josh says, leaving it alone for the moment. He turns back to his computer. He's working on another story for his creative writing program that's due tomorrow and he's only half finished. He rereads the two paragraphs he's just written and frowns, then highlights them and punches the DEL key. The paragraphs disappear and he feels a sudden panic, like he shouldn't have done that. He clicks UNDO and they reappear. He reads them again, then shakes his head. _Always go with your first instinct_, he tells himself and deletes them again. Then he saves and closes the document so there's no going back.

Pushing the computer aside, he stretches out on the bed and folds his hands under his head. "So, is she pretty?" he asks.

He hears Drake snort, but the strumming doesn't cease. "Josh," Drake says. "You've met my dad. What do you think?"

Josh looks over at him. "I think he's just like you, only older," he says, grinning.

That makes Drake stop strumming and he lifts his head, meets Josh's eyes across the room. "Well, you know what they say about the orange not falling far from the bush."

"Tree," Josh says. "And it's 'apple'."

"Whatever," Drake says, turning back to his guitar. "You know what I mean."

Josh watches him for a minute, then turns his eyes back to the ceiling. He can tell Drake's in a funk and he knows there's more to it than Michael Parker's young new girlfriend. Drake hasn't talked a lot about his dad in the two years they've known each other, but Josh knows one thing for certain: Having a new girlfriend is not a novelty for the elder Parker. There's something more, but he doesn't want to pry. If Drake wants to tell him, he'll tell him.

But he doesn't like to see Drake so…quiet. Quiet Drake generally means Sad Drake and Josh hates that. So he does his best to make him laugh. Or at least smile.

"Stacie the Stepmom," he says airily, flicking his eyes at Drake.

Drake ignores him, so he tries again. "Stacie the Sexy Stepmom." Still no reaction.

One more try. "Stacie the Smokin' Hot Stepmom."

"Josh." Drake doesn't look at him, but Josh smiles anyway. He looks back up at the ceiling, satisfied.

"Stacie the Smokin' Hot but Barely Smarter Than a Cereal Box Stepmom," Drake says a moment later.

When Josh turns his head, he sees Drake smiling back at him.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

**_Drake_**

He's bored. Having already beaten his own personal record for number of times bouncing a koosh ball off the ceiling without dropping it, flipped through every channel twice, and tuned both guitars, there's nothing left to do.

"Jo-osh," he says, peering over the back of the couch. "Come on already."

Josh is still propped on the bed with his stupid laptop, typing away on his stupid story for his stupid creative writing program. No, wait. His stupid _prestigious_ creative writing program, as Josh keeps reminding him.

"Five more minutes," Josh mutters, never taking his eyes from the screen.

"You said that five minutes ago," Drake says. "And five minutes before that. And five minutes bef–"

"I get it." Josh continues to type furiously for a few seconds, his lips vaguely forming each word as he goes along. With a flourish and a self-satisfied smile, he finally looks up. "There," he says, looking at Drake. "All finished."

"What's it about, anyway?" Drake asks him, sitting up on his knees and holding on to the back of the couch. Not that he really cares, but Josh has been blowing him off for the last two hours working on the stupid thing and Drake just wants to talk to him.

Josh grins. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

Drake smirks. "Fine," he says. "I'll just read it when you're not looking."

"Nuh-uh," Josh says, tapping a few keys and closing the computer. "It's password protected."

"Big deal," Drake says. "You use the same password for everything: 'Joshakazam'."

"Not this time, Mr. Smarty Pants," Josh says, standing up and slipping the computer back into its case. "I changed it."

"To what?" Drake asks, lifting one eyebrow. " 'Joshakazam2'?"

The look on Josh's face then makes Drake laugh. "It is, isn't it?" he says.

Josh tries to pull his face into a mask of disbelief. "What? No way," he says, shaking his head a little too sternly. " 'Joshakazam2'. That's ridiculous."

"Uh-huh," Drake says, climbing over the back of the couch. Josh clutches the computer case to his chest like it holds the answer to the meaning of life. "Relax, dude. You can keep your little story. I don't want to know."

Josh looks at him suspiciously, his arms still clutching the computer case. "Yeah, right."

"I promise," Drake says. He smiles when Josh doesn't move. "What, don't you trust me?"

"Does the sun rise in the west?" Josh says.

Drake wrinkles his brow.

"No, Drake," Josh says, shaking his head. "It doesn't."

"I'm hurt," Drake says, clutching his hand over his heart. "My own brother."

Josh rolls his eyes. "Oh, please," he says, turning towards his armoire. "You'll get over it." He opens the doors and leans in, placing the computer case in the back. Then he straightens and closes the doors, turning back to Drake. "There, it should be safe in there."

"Oh, yeah," Drake says. "I'll never find it."

Josh laughs. "I'm not worried about you finding it, Drake. 'Cause you'll be too busy licking your wounds to even remember it exists."

"Wounds?" Drake asks, smiling a little. "From what?"

"From the complete and total ass-kicking you're about to receive at the hands of yours truly," Josh says, giving him a pointed look. "We're going to The Premiere to play pool."

Drake grins. "Fine, but I get to use 'Excalibur'," he says, referring to Josh's personal cue stick.

Josh laughs again. "Go ahead. You're gonna need all the help you can get."

On their way out the door, Drake says, "Best of fifteen." When Josh just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, Drake adds, "What? It takes me a while to get warmed up."

* * *

**_Josh_**

Swallowing the last of his cheeseburger, Josh leans back in his chair and looks across the table at Drake, who's got his lips wrapped around the straw of his chocolate milkshake. "I can't believe I let you talk me into hustling those guys."

Drake smiles around his straw. "It's only hustling if your opponents are good. Those guys sucked." He drinks the rest of his milkshake until he's slurping the bottom, then he sits back in his chair and curls his fingers around the cup. "If you think about it, you were doing them a service."

Josh lifts one eyebrow. "Is that right?"

"Yeah," Drake says. "If you hadn't kicked their asses, they may have grown up with false hopes of becoming professional pool players. At least now they know they're not cut out for it. You did them a favor."

Josh shakes his head. "I still shouldn't have taken their money. I feel bad."

"Twenty bucks is a small price to pay for a valuable life lesson, Josh." A wry grin curls up one corner of his mouth as he flops his right arm on the table, palm side up. "Speaking of which, I'll take my half now."

"Half?" Josh asks. "I did all the work."

"Dude," Drake says. "We're a team. I set 'em up, you knock 'em down, remember?"

"Hmph," Josh says, but reaches in his pocket anyway, pulling out his wallet. Opening it, he pulls out a ten and places it in Drake's palm. "I should keep it, after all the money you've cost me tonight." He meets Drake's eyes. "You're an expensive date."

Drake crumples the ten and works it into his hip pocket. "Yeah," he says, winking at Josh. "But I'm pretty." He laughs, then stands up. "Come on," he adds. "I'll let you drive me home."

The ride home is pretty quiet and when Josh pulls into their driveway and turns off the engine, he notices that Drake doesn't move to get out of the car. Staying put, too, he stares out the windshield and counts the seconds until Drake speaks: thirty-eight.

"She's pregnant," Drake says.

Josh feels his chest tighten at that and he has to force himself to ask, "Who?"

"Stacie."

Breathing out, Josh says, "With an 'i-e'?"

He hears Drake laugh derisively, a short puff of air pushed out through his nose. "Yeah," he says. "They're getting married."

Josh looks over at him, sees him looking out the passenger window. "How do you feel about that?"

Drake shakes his head, but doesn't turn around. He doesn't answer the question, either. "Megan was crying," he says. "On the way home."

Josh closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again and looks back out the windshield. "Drake," he says, ignoring the voice inside his head telling him to leave it alone. "It's–"

"I shouldn't even care, you know?" Drake says, turning to look at Josh across the front seat.

"He's your dad," Josh says softly.

Drake clenches his jaw, shaking his head like he's trying deflect Josh's words. "It's just that…" He stops, lets out his breath in a rush, seems to deflate a little. He looks away, over Josh's shoulder out the driver's window. "He'll have a new kid now, Josh," Drake says, looking back at him, anger in his voice. "And I hate that it bothers me. I hate that the first thing I thought when he told us was, 'What about us? Weren't we enough?' " He holds Josh's gaze for a moment, then turns towards the door and pushes it open, getting out and stalking up the front walk, disappearing into the house.

* * *

**_Drake_**

The clock on the cable box says 1:28am. Drake's sitting on the living room couch, watching some cheesy vampire movie on Midnight Mayhem, when Josh slides in beside him. He doesn't look over at him, doesn't say a word, and they watch together in silence as blood that looks faker than ketchup drips from the vampires' plastic fangs.

They watch until the end, through the credits, and into the start of the next movie – this one's about zombies – before Josh says, "Here."

Drake looks over at him; Josh is holding out a small stack of papers. He looks at the papers, then back at Josh. "What is it?"

"My story," Josh says.

"Josh," Drake says, shaking his head. "I already told you. I don't need to read it."

"But I want you to."

Drake holds his gaze for a long moment, then reaches for the papers. In the light of the TV, he makes out the title: "The Amazing Adventures of Guitar Boy." He looks back at Josh, who's staring back at him unblinkingly.

" 'Guitar Boy'?" he asks, smiling a little.

Josh shrugs and Drake is sure that if there was more light, he'd see him blush, too. "Our assignment was to take someone we know and make them into a superhero. I picked you."

Drake feels his throat tighten a little, but he smiles. "What powers do I have?" he asks, flipping through the pages. "Can I fly? How 'bout X-ray vision?" He looks back at Josh, grinning. "I've always wanted X-ray vision." He waggles his eyebrows.

Josh rolls his eyes. "I thought you already had X-ray vision."

Drake laughs. "Nah. Just a pair of 10X binoculars."

"That's right," Josh says. "You don't need X-ray vision to see a girl's underpants."

Drake grins. "I don't need binoculars, either."

"Okay," Josh says, smiling. "That's my cue to go to bed." He stands up and starts walking towards the stairs.

"Hey, Josh," Drake calls after him and when he turns around, Drake says, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Josh says. "Goodnight."

It takes him forty-five minutes, but by the time Drake's finished reading it, his face hurts from smiling.

When he gets upstairs, Josh is asleep and snoring softly. Walking over to his desk, he lays the story gently on top of the clutter. He turns towards his bed and has one foot on the ladder when he stops. He looks back towards the desk, then walks back over to it, switching on the lamp. Finding a pen underneath the mess, he writes in the top margin of the first page, "_What about Pool Shark, Guitar Boy's trusty sidekick? Every great superhero needs a great sidekick."_

He smiles, then flips off the light and carries the story across the room, laying it on the table beside Josh's bed where he will be sure to see it in the morning.

* * *

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!_


	5. Sail Away

**Title:** Boys of Summer  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** K to T (G to R)  
**Warnings:** bad words  
**Pairings:** none  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.

**Author's Note**: Okay, a few things: (1) I don't generally bother "Schneiderizing" things that haven't already been changed on the show, so if a few real-life name brands pop up here and there, forgive me (this goes for future chapters, too); (2) It took me two days to get this chapter just right (or at least I hope it is). I'm trying to show a gradual progression in the boys' relationship and I hope I've done so here; and (3) The POV changes abruptly at the end (two halves of the same scene) and I hope it's not too jarring. I do warn you, though, and please understand that I did this for a good reason. I think that's it. :o)

* * *

**Sail Away**

**_Drake_**

"Dude, if you unpack that bag one more time, I swear to God I'm gonna throw it overboard the second we get on the ship," he says.

"I keep getting the feeling I'm forgetting something," Josh says, digging around in one of the side pockets.

"You packed your ointment, Josh," Drake teases. "I saw you put it in there myself."

Josh makes a face at him. "Very funny."

Drake walks over and steps up onto the platform. "It's our senior trip, man. Relax," he says, slapping Josh on the shoulder. "No parents, no Megan. Just you, me, and about a thousand hot girls from every high school in the district."

Josh looks at him, his face a little mournful. "Including Mindy," he says.

Drake twists his face in disgust. "I said _hot_ girls, Josh."

"Mindy's hot," Josh says, smiling. "Have you seen her in a bikini?"

Covering his eyes, Drake starts staggering around, holding his left arm out in front of him and waving it around blindly. "My eyes," he says. "I think they're bleeding."

"Ha ha," Josh says. "Seriously, man. What am I gonna do? Five days on the same ship with Mindy. I don't know if I can do it."

Drake lowers his hands and looks at Josh, who's standing there fumbling with the cap on a tube of sunscreen. "I'll tell you what you're gonna do," he says. "You're gonna stick with me." He hooks his right hand over Josh's shoulder and sweeps his left hand in the air in front of them. "Picture it: water slides, 24-hour buffets, and fruity drinks with little umbrellas." He looks up at Josh's profile and nudges him with his hip. "Little umbrellas, Josh."

Josh grins down at him. "I do love the little umbrellas," he says.

* * *

**_Josh_**

"I get the bed by the window," Drake says the second Josh opens their cabin door. He pushes past Josh into the room and plops his bag down on the bed, climbing onto it and peering through the small round glass.

Josh closes the cabin door and sets his bag down on the other bed, which is along the wall perpendicular to Drake's. "It's called a porthole," he says.

Drake shoots him a look over his shoulder. "Window, porthole, blow hole. Whatever, dude." He turns back towards the porthole. "I wanna be able to see the ocean."

"We're on a ship, Drake," Josh says. "We'll be surrounded by the ocean."

Drake turns from the window, an excited look on his face. "So what do you wanna do first?" he asks.

"Unpack," Josh says, unzipping his bag.

"Josh, come on," Drake says, and out of the corner of his eye, Josh sees him climb off the bed. "We can unpack later. Let's go check out the ship."

Josh starts pulling out his clothes. "You know I like to be settled in first," he says. "I like coming back at the end of the day and having all my stuff just where I want it."

He hears Drake sigh and can picture him rolling his eyes. "Fine," Drake mumbles. The sound of Drake's bag opening follows a few seconds later, then, "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I was rooming with Walter."

Josh laughs. "The faster we get this done, Drake," he says, "the more time we'll have for other stuff."

"Such as?" Drake asks hopefully.

"I seem to recall something about hot girls and little umbrellas," Josh says, placing a stack of clothes neatly in the top drawer of the dresser.

"How 'bout hot girls _under_ little umbrellas?" Drake says, coming to stand next to him, holding a wad of unfolded clothes in one arm. Pulling open the drawer below Josh's, he drops the pile in, pushing it down with his hands until the drawer can shut. "All done," he says, looking over at Josh with a smile.

Josh just shakes his head.

* * *

**_Drake_**

Standing in their designated muster station as one of the crew members drones on about something or other during the lifeboat drill, Drake looks at Josh over the edge of his life jacket.

They haven't even departed yet and Josh already looks green.

"Josh," Drake whispers, tapping him on the forearm. "You okay?"

Josh turns his head to meet his eyes. "I think I'm getting seasick," he says, swallowing.

"We haven't even left the port," Drake tells him.

"I know," Josh says. "But the ship…I can feel it rocking."

Oh, man. "You're not gonna throw up, are you?"

Josh isn't looking at him anymore, has turned back towards the demonstration, but he presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head once.

"'Cause if you are, warn me first, okay?" Drake says. "So I can get out of the way." He grabs Josh's hand and places his arm forearm in it. "Here. If you think you might blow, squeeze my arm. I'll duck." He grins. "Just make sure you project, though, so you don't get it all over your life jacket."

The couple in front of them give him a dark look over their shoulders.

"I'd move up a little if I were you," Drake tells them, smiling sweetly. They look at each other, then inch up a little. But they're all crammed in together and there's not much room to maneuver.

Josh squeezes his arm and Drake jerks his head back to look up at him. "Seriously?"

Josh nods, still facing forward.

"Um, okay," Drake says, surveying the crowd around them. There's nothing but a sea of orange life jackets on every side. "Okay." He looks to his right, sees a man in red swim trunks and orange Crocs holding a plastic cup of beer.

"I need to borrow that," he says, snatching the cup from the guy's hand and dumping the beer on the deck. He turns back to Josh, ignoring the man's protests, and holds the empty cup out to him. "Here. Use this."

Josh takes the cup and holds it in his fist, crushing it a little as he closes his eyes and takes slow, deep breaths through his nose. After about a minute, he opens his eyes and loosens his grip on the cup, turning his head to look at Drake. A shaky smile curves his lips. "False alarm," he says softly, handing the cup back to Drake.

Drake takes it. "You sure you're okay?"

Josh nods. "I'm sure. I just need to lie down for a while."

"This drill has got to be almost done by now," Drake says, looking towards the front of the group, then back at Josh.

As if on cue, the crowd starts to disperse. The guy in the orange Crocs brushes past Drake and Drake grabs his arm. "False alarm," he says, handing the empty cup back to him. "Thanks, anyway."

Then he ushers Josh back towards their cabin.

* * *

**_Josh_**

"Dude," Drake says as he bursts through the door of their cabin. "I got you something. You are so gonna love me for this." He plops down on the edge of Josh's bed and grins down at him.

Josh meets his eyes. "Don't tell me," he says. "A carton of cigarettes from the duty free shop."

"Better," Drake says, pulling something from his right hip pocket and holding it out to Josh.

Josh starts laughing, sitting up and taking the item from Drake's hand. "No way," he says, pulling the top back and letting it snap shut.

"There was a whole bunch of them in a big bin. On clearance," Drake says, laughing.

"An Oprah Pez dispenser," Josh says, flicking Oprah's plastic head back again. "Now I've seen everything." He looks back at Drake, raising one eyebrow at him. "Where's the Pez?"

Drake gives him a sheepish look. "I ate 'em on the way back here," he says.

"Of course," Josh says, chuckling.

"Feeling better?" Drake asks him.

Josh shrugs. "A little," he says. "At least the desire to hurl every five minutes is gone."

"Didn't you bring some of those little patch things?"

Josh feels his face color a little. "Yeah," he says, turning his head in both directions so Drake can see behind his ears.

"What, did you use, like, the whole box?" Drake asks, laughing.

"I was desperate," Josh whines. He narrows his eyes at Drake. "How come you're not seasick?"

"Because I," Drake says, grinning, "have a theory." He stands up. "Just keep moving and you won't get sick."

"So says The Great Drake," Josh says.

He watches as Drake walks over to the dresser and rummages through the top drawer. A second later, his hand emerges holding Josh's swim trunks. "Here," he says, tossing them at Josh, where they land on the bed in front of him. "We're going swimming."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Josh says, reaching for the trunks. "I'm still a little queasy."

Drake rolls his eyes as he peels off his shirt. "No problem," he says, tossing his shirt in the direction of his bed and bending to open his drawer. "'Cause I have another theory."

"Yeah? What's that?" Josh asks, amused.

Drake straightens, his own swim trunks dangling from his fingers. He smiles at Josh. "If you're _in_ the water while you're _on_ the water, you'll be fine."

* * *

**_Drake_**

He's lounging by the pool, eyes closed behind his shades, when a shadow falls over him. Squinting up at the intruder, he suppresses a groan.

"Where's Josh?" Mindy asks. "I want to talk to him."

"Do I look like his keeper?" Drake says acidly.

"Yes," she says. "You do."

His eyes wander out of habit over her body. She's wearing a white bikini, a yellow sarong, and white flip-flops. Her legs are smooth and tan. He hates to admit it, but Josh was right; she does look good in a bikini.

"I'm up here," he hears her say and drags his eyes back up to her face. She's smirking at him.

"Where is he?" she asks again, hands on her hips.

Nice body or no, she's still a bitch, he thinks, but gives her a serene smile. "Last time I saw him, he was chatting up some cute blonde in the deep end," he says, motioning with his head to the far side of the pool.

He sees her press her lips into a firm line as she looks over her shoulder at the pool and he suppresses a smile. "I'll let him know you were looking for him, though," he adds, picking up his drink and taking a victorious sip.

She turns her head to look back at him. Her eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, but he can feel the heat coming from them. "You do that," she says and walks briskly away.

Drake's still smiling when Josh flops down into the chaise next to his. "I had to go all the way back to the cabin to use the bathroom," he says, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Josh," Drake says, looking over at him. "We've gone over this. Just think of waterfalls."

Josh pulls a face. "Funny," he says. "The line for this one was too long, idiot."

Drake chuckles. "Mindy was just here, by the way," he says, watching Josh for his reaction.

"Oh, yeah?" Josh says a little too nonchalantly. "What did she want?" He leans his head back against the chaise, the picture of calm.

"She said she wanted to talk to you," Drake says. "I told her you were too busy chatting up some blonde in the deep end to talk right now."

Josh snaps his head to look at Drake. "Really? What did she say?" He clears his throat. "I mean, not that I care."

Drake shakes his head, rolling his eyes behind his shades. "She looked pissed, actually," he says.

A slow smile creeps across Josh's face. "Pissed, huh?" He nods. "Good." Then he turns back to face the pool. Drake does the same.

A few moments later, Josh says, "You know? I'm feeling much better."

* * *

**_Josh_**

Josh is nursing a sunburn from their day in Cabo San Lucas and hisses as Drake smoothes aloe over his back. "I don't know why I keep listening to you," he says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"I don't know why, either," Drake says, laughing. "You'd think someone as smart as you would've learned by now."

Josh rolls his head along his crossed forearms to peek at Drake out of the corner of his eye. " 'I'll wake you up. I promise'," he mimics, smirking.

Drake grins. "I'm sorry man, but when two very hot girls ask you to rub lotion on their backs, you do not say no," he says, squirting more aloe in his palm. He makes a face. "This stuff is gross."

"Stop complaining," Josh says, turning his head back into the pillow. "You've got it easy. I'm the one suffering here. You've got hands like Freddie Krueger."

Drake stops rubbing, resting his hands against Josh's ribcage on both sides. When he speaks, his mouth is right next to Josh's ear. "I could always go get Mindy," he says. "She's probably dying to get her claws into you by now."

Josh turns his head again to look at Drake, sees him smiling down at him, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "No thanks," he says. "I'm in enough pain already."

Drake laughs and sits back up. His hands start moving again, more gently this time. "Don't worry, Josh. I think she got the picture after last night. What was that girl's name again?"

"Kristen."

"That's it. Kristen. She was cute." He hears Drake chuckle. "I don't think Mindy thought so, though."

Josh pushes himself up and turns around and Drake's hands fall away. He grimaces against the way his burned skin creases as he twists to face Drake, but he meets his brother's eyes evenly. "Mindy?" he says. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing," Drake says, trying to look innocent. But a smile is fighting for control with the corners of his mouth. "Just that Mindy happened to walk in at the exact moment Kristen was introducing you to her tongue."

"What?" Josh asks, staring incredulously at Drake. Then he narrows his eyes. "Wait. I don't believe in coincidences, Drake." He points his finger at Drake. "Especially when they involve you."

"What?" Drake says. Josh keeps staring. "I swear, I didn't do anything." At Josh's continued stare, he continues. "Look. We were in the club, right? Kristen came up to you and for once you didn't start spluttering." Josh smirks at that and Drake smiles. "Good job, by the way. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Josh says dryly. He raises his eyebrows. "Anyway."

"Anyway," Drake says, "you two were getting along pretty well. That's when I saw Mindy come through the door. She looked pissed, but doesn't she always?" He laughs. "You didn't see her come in and I didn't want her to ruin your little love fest, so I ran a little interference for you. I walked up to her and she was about to open her mouth to say something when she saw something behind me that shut her right up. I turned around and there you were, rounding first base and heading for second." He grins.

Josh knows he's blushing, but with his sunburn, he barely feels it. "What did Mindy do?"

"What do you think?" Drake says. "She stood there gaping like a fish for a few seconds, then stomped out of the club. It was awesome."

"That would explain why she kept glaring at me all day today," Josh says, smiling despite himself. He maneuvers his legs around Drake and stands up, holding his arms away from his sides. "I feel like I'm on fire."

"You _look _like you're on fire," Drake says, tossing the bottle of aloe on the bed and standing up. "But I've got just the thing: ice cream." He grins.

"Can I lay in it?" Josh says.

Drake laughs. "I don't think they have bowls big enough," he says. "But I can ask."

"Help me with my shirt," Josh says, motioning to the shirt hanging from the back of the chair. "I'm not sure I can lift my arms."

Drake rolls his eyes. "You're such a baby," he says, snatching the shirt from the chair and guiding Josh's arms into the sleeves, sliding it up to his shoulders. "There. Need me to button it, too?" he asks sarcastically.

"I think I can handle it, thanks," Josh says, grinning. "Let's go."

* * *

**_Drake_**

"This has been, like, the best vacation ever," he says, leaning on his arms against the railing and looking out into the dark ocean.

"Yeah," Josh says beside him. "It has."

"I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow."

"Time flies when you're having fun."

"I guess," Drake says, his words nearly snatched away by the breeze.

"What's the matter?" he hears Josh ask and feels Josh's eyes on him.

Drake looks over at him, meeting his eyes in the dim light. "Nothing," he says, smiling a little. "I was just thinking."

"Yeah?" Josh says, smiling back, nudging Drake with his shoulder. "Let me write this down."

Drake smirks. "Funny," he says. "Just for that, I'm not gonna tell you what I was thinking about."

"Fine," Josh says, looking back at the ocean. "Don't tell me. I don't care." But he's still smiling.

Drake studies his profile for a long moment. There are a lot of things he wants to say, all of which sound stupid inside his head because no matter what Josh says, he's not as good with words as everyone thinks. Not when it comes to the important stuff. So he looks back at the ocean and says the one thing he knows he can say without tripping over his tongue. "I was thinking that I don't want this to end, you know? I just want to stay right here forever."

"Really?" The surprise in Josh's voice is evident.

After a few seconds, Drake turns to meet Josh's eyes. "Does that sound dumb?"

"Not at all," Josh says. "I was just thinking the same thing."

* * *

**_Josh_**

Drake smiles slightly, just a small upturn of the corners of his mouth. "I don't know," he says after a moment, sighing as he turns back to the ocean. "We've only got a year of school left. Then what?"

Josh turns back around, too, inching towards Drake until their shoulders are touching. "Then," he says, "we become adults."

"Adults," Drake says. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

Josh laughs. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Drake," he says. "We can't stay teenagers forever, you know."

"I know," Drake says. "It's just…" He lets the thought trail off.

But it suddenly occurs to Josh what's bothering Drake; it's the same thing he's thought about a million times himself. "We'll see each other all the time," he says.

Drake turns to him then, leaning his left side against the railing. He looks so earnest, Josh almost laughs. But the look in his dark eyes stops him. "Promise me," Drake says. "Promise me that no matter what, we'll always be there for each other."

Josh feels his throat constrict, feels tears sting his eyes and tells himself it's the wind making his eyes water. He looks at Drake's face. His hair is blowing in the breeze and in that instant, Josh thinks Drake has never looked more beautiful. He wants to tell him that, but can't, says instead, "I promise," and hopes Drake can't hear all the hidden truths in his voice.

"Pinky swear," Drake says seriously, holding up his right fist and jutting out his pinky.

Josh laughs. "What are we, five?" he says.

Drake smiles. "Just do it."

Josh brings his hand up, hooks his pinky around Drake's and holds on. "I swear," he says.

* * *

_Please review. Thank you._


	6. Adios, Amigo

**Title:** Boys of Summer  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** K to T (G to R)  
**Warnings:** bad words, boy kissing  
**Pairings:** Drake/Josh  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.

**Author's Note**: This darn chapter has been giving me fits. I think I've rewritten it half a dozen times. I'm not sure exactly why it's been giving me such trouble, but I'm satisfied now. Not blissfully happy, mind you, but satisfied. I hope you like it!

* * *

**Adios, Amigo**

**_Josh_**

Drake signs for the envelope, then stands in the foyer and tears it open, his dark eyes widening as he stares at the piece of paper in his hand without blinking. Josh just watches him; Drake doesn't take a breath for at least twenty seconds.

"What is it?" Josh asks cautiously.

Drake doesn't say anything, just flicks his eyes up to meet Josh's, and hands the piece of paper to him.

Taking it, Josh looks at it and instantly feels his heart pound against his ribs. "Oh, my God," he whispers. He looks up, sees Drake still staring back at him, and grins.

It takes a few seconds, but Drake eventually grins back. "I can't believe it," he says. He holds his hand out for the paper and Josh hands it back, watching him read it again, seeing his eyes move back and forth across the lines. "Ten thousand dollars," he whispers. He lifts his eyes to Josh's face. "Ten fucking thousand."

"There's gonna be more where that came from, too," Josh says. "Lots more."

Drake nods. "Thanks, man."

"For what?" Josh asks. "I didn't do anything."

"You didn't do anything," Drake says. "You only helped me get a recording contract with Spin City Records, Josh. You got my song in that commercial. You got me on TRL. Without you, none of this–" he flicks the check in hand with his fingertips "–would have happened."

Josh shakes his head. "Yes it would've, Drake. You got on TRL, you got that contract because of your talent, not because I made it happen. It's all because of you, man."

A crooked smile arcs across Drake's mouth. "Whatever," he says. "Go ahead and deny it, but I know the truth."

They look at each other and Josh has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from brushing Drake's cheek. "So," he says, "what are you gonna do with all that money?"

Drake gives him a wink. "I've got a few ideas," he says, grinning.

Josh lifts one eyebrow. "No doubt they involve breasts," he says, laughing.

"A sea of 'em," Drake says, sweeping both arms in front of him. "As far as the eye can see."

Josh pulls a face. "That," he says, "is actually kind of disturbing."

Drake laughs. "I'm kidding, Josh," he says, clapping him on the back. "Besides, I don't need to pay to see those."

"That's right," Josh says. "You just walk in a room and girls everywhere lose their bras."

"Yeah," Drake says. "It's good to be me."

Josh takes a step back. "Would you and your ego like to be alone?" he asks.

Drake laughs. "Maybe later," he says. "Right now, I've got 10 G's burning a hole in my pocket."

"Drake," Josh says, crossing his arms in front him. "Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. You can't just walk into the bank and say, 'I'd like this in small bills, please.' "

"Why not?"

Josh shakes his head. "Listen to me," he says, grasping Drake's shoulders and meeting his eyes. "Don't spend that money yet." He holds his hand up at Drake's protest. "This is your first paycheck, man. Savor it. There are gonna be many others, but they'll never be sweeter than this one."

Drake looks at the check in his hand, then looks back at Josh. "How 'bout if I only spend _half_ of it?" he asks, grinning.

Josh just rolls his eyes.

* * *

**_Drake_**

Josh's entire side of the room is stacked with cardboard boxes and Drake can't stop staring at them as he listens to the voice on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry, Drake," Alan, his agent, says, "but Marcus really wants to meet with you and the day after tomorrow is the only day he's available." Drake hears him exhale into the phone. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "George Marcus is a very important man, Drake. You _do not_ want to miss this meeting."

"Yeah," Drake says, his eyes scanning the stacks of Josh's life, labeled neatly in black Sharpie. "I understand. I'll be there." He flips his phone shut and squeezes it in his fingers. Damn it.

Josh leaves for college the day after tomorrow and he was supposed to go with him on the road trip.

* * *

**_Josh_**

"Can I open my eyes now?" he asks impatiently. Drake's hands are closed tightly around his upper arms and he's being pushed from behind.

"In a second," Drake says. "We're almost there."

Drake stops him and lets go of his arms. "No peeking," Drake says and Josh hears the front door open, feels the warm August night air hit his face.

"Drake, come on."

"Just a few more steps," Drake says and Josh feels Drake's hands on his arms again. "Now, step up."

Josh does as instructed and after a few more steps, Drake stops him again. "Okay," he says. "Open your eyes."

Josh blinks his eyes open and stares down the front walk. Parked in the street in front of their house is a shiny black limousine, complete with a uniformed driver who's standing next to the back passenger door with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

Turning back to Drake, he sees him smiling back at him under the porch light. "Well?" Drake asks.

"Who's the limo for?" Josh asks.

"For you, man," Drake says. "To celebrate your last night in San Diego."

Josh feels himself smile. "You shouldn't have done this," he says, turning to face Drake head on. "You should be saving your money."

Drake rolls his eyes. "Are you saying that as my brother or as my manager?" he says.

"I'm not your manager anymore," Josh says. "You're Barry's problem now." He smiles.

"Barry's not officially my manager until tomorrow, Josh," Drake says. He raises his eyebrows in a question. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

Josh shakes his head. "You need a real manager, Drake. Someone who knows about the business. Who knows the right people." He smiles. "Someone who isn't easily distracted by giant shrimp."

Drake laughs. "Fine," he says. "But I've got it on good authority that I'm gonna be a big star and I'd really hate for you to miss out."

"Believe me," Josh says. "I won't be missing out. I'll always be your biggest fan." He slips his arm around Drake's shoulders and turns him so they're both facing the street and the limo with the driver who hasn't moved from his spot. "Now," he says. "Where to, Mr. Big Shot Rock Star?"

* * *

**_Drake_**

They're sitting in the back of the limo side-by-side, passing what's left of a bottle of brandy between them because there is no way in hell Drake's going to be able to tell Josh he can't go with him to New York without being a little buzzed. He's got his head tilted back against the back of the plush seat, looking out through the open sunroof at the night sky, feeling a tingly warmth spread beneath his skin.

"I guess Dad'll be the one driving first thing tomorrow," Josh says beside him and Drake hears him chuckle, slow and low in his throat.

Drake rolls his head to his left so he can look at Josh and finds his brother in the same posture he's in: head on the back of the seat, eyes staring up through the sunroof, the nearly-empty bottle propped on top of his left thigh. He follows the outline of Josh's profile with his eyes – the curve of his brow, his nose, his lips, his chin – and he has the sudden urge to touch him, to feel the warmth of Josh's flushed skin beneath his fingertips.

Instead he says, "I can't go with you tomorrow." He'd hoped the alcohol he'd smuggled from the house would soften the impact of the words, but he feels himself flinch at the sound of them.

It takes a second, but Josh finally turns his eyes to him. They're hooded, but they're looking right at him. "Why not?" Even thickened by alcohol, Drake can still hear the note of hurt in Josh's voice.

"Some bigwig wants to meet with me. In LA. Apparently, tomorrow's the only day he can do it," Drake says. "Alan says I can't afford to miss it."

"Oh," Josh says, then nods – a slow, careful movement of his head. He looks at Drake for a moment longer, then turns to stare back out through the sunroof.

Drake feels like such a shit. He sits up. Pressing a button on the door, he waits for the partition to slide down, revealing the back of the driver's head and a pretty amazing view of San Diego through the windshield. "Hey, Lester," Drake says to the driver. "Could you give us a minute? I need to talk to my brother in private."

The older man turns his head a little and gives him a cursory nod. "Of course," he says. "I could use a smoke, anyway."

Drake waits until the driver's door closes with a dull thud and the tip of Lester's cigarette glows orange against the dark sky fifty feet away before sliding the partition back up. He turns in his seat to face Josh, who hasn't moved. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's alright," Josh says, but doesn't look at him.

"I really wanted to go with you," Drake tells him, resting his hand on Josh's knee. "You know that."

"I know," Josh says, finally dragging his eyes to meet Drake's. "I know that."

They just look at each other for a long moment, then Drake sighs. "Fuck it," he says, digging in his pocket for his phone.

"Who are you calling?" Josh asks.

"Alan," Drake answers. "I'm gonna tell him I can't make it tomorrow."

"Don't," Josh says, his hand on Drake's faster than Drake thought possible, considering the sluggishness of Josh's other movements. Josh closes his hand around Drake's, phone and all, just holding there. "Don't burn your bridges, Drake. Not for me."

Drake can feel the heat of Josh's skin against his and, okay, it's not the first time Josh has touched him, but it may be one of the last for who knows how long and it suddenly feels more urgent. "But you're leaving tomorrow," he says, his throat tight.

Josh sits up, placing the bottle carefully on the floor at his feet, and shifts in the seat so he's facing Drake. He lets go of Drake's hand, moving to grasp the back of his neck instead, heat blooming in the skin beneath Josh's palm. "I'm proud of you," Josh says. "You know that, right?"

Drake nods because he doesn't trust his voice.

"And no matter where you are or where I am, that'll never change." He smiles a little and squeezes Drake's neck. "Ever."

His voice is soft, his breath warm and brandy-scented, and Drake suddenly has a burning need to know what that breath tastes like. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to Josh's. Josh freezes against him as a small sound of surprise escapes his throat. But Drake doesn't back away because Josh's lips are soft and they're warm and they taste like brandy and Josh and life.

* * *

**_Josh_**

Drake's kissing him. Drake is kissing him. Drake. Is. Fucking. Kissing. Him. Josh's mind can't seem to form any other thought. But when he feels Drake's hands on his thighs, warm and sure, feels the tip of Drake's tongue trail along his bottom lip, he nearly stops thinking altogether.

His spine seems to melt into the back of the seat, into the crease where the cushion meets the door, and his fingers find their way further into Drake's hair as he opens his mouth. His eyes have fallen closed on reflex, but when he feels Drake's tongue slide against his and brush lightly over the roof of his mouth, he opens them just to make sure he's not dreaming.

Drake is there. Close. Too close to really focus, but he knows it's Drake, knows it like he knows that everything has suddenly changed. They've crossed some sort of invisible line and even if this never happens again, the world has been forever altered.

But he closes his eyes again and lets himself believe that this – right here, right now – is the way things should be. His other hand finds Drake's hip, the tips of his first two fingers finding the area of exposed skin below the hem of Drake's t-shirt and skittering across it. A low sound escapes Drake's throat and Josh feels Drake's hands move up, up until they're grasping at the front of Josh's shirt and tugging.

Josh suddenly realizes why girls line up for this: Drake kisses like he's trying to crawl inside.

* * *

**_Drake_**

Josh is better at this than Drake thought he'd be and he wonders briefly who he's been practicing on. But then he feels Josh's fingers brush the skin right above his hip and he no longer cares. He just groans and grabs handfuls of Josh's shirt, trying to pull him closer. He wants more, probably too much, but then again, it's always been that way.

Drake wants what he can't have and then takes it anyway.

He finally has to break away to breathe, but he doesn't go far, doesn't let Josh go far, either. He maintains his grip on Josh's shirt and rests his forehead against Josh's. They're so close, they're breathing each other's air, and he feels Josh's hand slide out of his hair and come to rest against his cheek, his thumb brushing the skin below Drake's left eye. The sensation makes Drake shiver.

"Drake," Josh says and the sound of his name draws Drake's eyes open. He pulls his head back slightly so he can focus, looking at Josh through heavy-lidded eyes, blinking languidly at him. Josh's hand is still on his cheek and his thumb brushes beneath his eye again and Drake watches, mesmerized, as Josh runs his tongue over his swollen lips. He mirrors the action and sees Josh's Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"I don't want you to go," Drake whispers and knows he sounds pathetic. But this is Josh. _Josh._

Josh responds by sliding his hand down to Drake's jaw and running his thumb over Drake's lips. "I have to," he says. Then he leans forward, presses his forehead to Drake's again, and runs his thumb once again over Drake's lips. "But not until tomorrow."

Then Josh kisses him.

* * *

**_Josh_**

When Drake crawls into Josh's bed instead of his own after brushing his teeth, Josh holds his breath. This thing between them is still raw, still new, and still extremely terrifying. He's afraid of wanting too much, afraid of giving in too easily, afraid of taking things too fast, afraid of ruining everything. But he knows that despite all the confusion, despite the knot in his stomach and the pain in his heart, he'll willingly take whatever Drake wants to give him and give Drake whatever he wants in return.

All Drake wants is contact, it seems, as he burrows under the covers and curls up against Josh. Josh wraps his arm around him, his fingers finding the edge of Drake's t-shirt and snaking underneath, his palm pressing flat against Drake's skin. Drake's hand finds its way to skin, too, right above Josh's left hip.

"I'll miss you," Drake whispers against his neck in the darkness and Josh just knows his heart is going to break.

He also knows without a doubt that Drake will be gone when he wakes up.

* * *

**_Drake_**

He arrives at the Spin City Records building before 8:00am and parks in the empty visitors parking lot the gruff and efficient security guard directs him to. Looking at the clock on the dash, he almost laughs, because he's never this early for anything unless Josh makes him.

Josh. He supposes Josh _is_ the reason he's here so early, after all. The need to _not_ see Josh drive away is what drove him from the warmth and comfort of Josh's bed before the sun had come up, what made him dress in the dark and creep downstairs and leave in his mom's SUV before anyone even stirred.

He's sitting with his eyes closed, breathing through his nose, trying to loosen the knot twisting in his stomach. It's part nerves, part aching loneliness, and as he tries to reconcile the fact that this is the first day of the rest of life, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

His eyes fly open and he blinks against the early morning sun. Digging out his phone, he looks at the screen: He's got a new text message. It's from Josh.

"adios, amigo" it says.

Drake would laugh if he didn't feel like crying.

* * *

_Reviews keep a girl going. Thank you!_


End file.
